If I Could See You Again
by athome Jo
Summary: An American nurse and a British doctor find a haven in each other on the battlefront during WWII.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fan-fiction, so please be kind. This story is dedicated to my friend, Lori (aka aidanmomma). She keeps me supplied with story recs, music, support, and love. This will be a short story, 6 chapters in all. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

**Song rec and story inspiration (to be listened to while reading this chapter): ****www . youtube . com / watch?v=mikudzy6Ddo**

_Prologue_

_March, 1945_

"It's going to be over soon," she murmured, her tears dampening his chest, their fingers twined together, resting over his steady heart.

"What's going to be over soon, Sweetheart?" he asked, tightening his arm around her, his nose gently nuzzling the hair at her temple, silently bidding her to lift her head.

"Our time together, in the blink of an eye, it seems. Oh, I wish we could stay here longer. Forever."

He could hear the heartache in her voice, and he longed to comfort her. "Oh, Darling," a sad sigh escaped his lips.

"I remember it all like it just happened, like it was yesterday," her voice softening to a whisper.

"Tell me about it, Darling. Tell me about our yesterday." He knew she needed him as much as he needed her.

"I remember the call to serve, the call that led me to you. Though it was horrible, I'm so grateful for it. I love you so much, my heart hurts. I never want it to end. I never want to spend a moment without you in my life."

"Our life," he gently reminded her, "and our time apart will go by in the blink of an eye."

"Yes, our life." She was buoyed by this fact. "It's not been a solitary life, since the moment I found you covered in sweat and dust and blood." Her sad brown eyes brightened with the declaration.

"Well, that paints an attractive picture," he chuckled softly. "But, a true picture, nonetheless. Tell me more."

"I remember how weary you would become, but you were determined. You would not rest, when so many lives were counting on you. I loved you in that moment," she responded, with new energy in her voice.

"Then you came and asked me to come away with you. 'Come away'…" he whispered, slowly, remembering.

"And you came with me."

He ran his nose along her jaw line, and looked into her eyes, "I had to. One look in your eyes, on your beautiful face, and I couldn't deny you anything."

Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she said, "You were so troubled. You knew; you knew that while you rested, they suffered. Some would lose limbs, some would lose their lives while you were resting. Such heavy burdens weighed you down."

"You eased my burden," he declared, simply.

"I tried," she stated matter-of-factly, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"You succeeded. You brought joy to my life, when there was nothing but suffering all around me," he said, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. "You gave me hope for a future, a brighter future that was just on the horizon. I knew then it was within reach."

"What was within reach?" she asked, perplexed by his choice of words.

"Our life."

She reveled in those two words. "What a gift you are to me. The words are too inadequate, but I love you."

"With all of my breath, and life, and soul. Sweetheart, our journey has not come to its end. There is more. There will be so much more for us." Of this he was certain.

"You still have hope," she stated, with a bright smile adorning her face.

His heart bursting full, he fervently whispered, "I still have you."

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Let me know what you think!**

**~ Johanna**


	2. December 7, 1941

**A/N: Thank you for continuing to read my story. ****Thanks also to Lori and Melissa for pre-reading and supporting my efforts along the way. Please check out their stories on my profile page!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

_December 7, 1941 _

As I tidied up our room, I listened to _Sunday Serenade_ on the radio. As a nurse, my days were filled with tending to the soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital. Though my family lived nearby, I lived in a small apartment not far from the hospital. I shared the flat with my best friend, Alice, and enjoyed the autonomy of living on my own. Christmas break would begin on Friday, and I was excited for the time off. While my days were busy with work, many weekends would find me and my friends making care packages for the hospitalized soldiers, as well as spending time at the local USO.

Father worked for the War Department, so living in Washington, D.C., afforded me the opportunity to attend Mt. Vernon Women's College. I graduated three years prior, at the age of 20 and immediately began my work at Walter Reed. I was fortunate to have my family nearby, unlike some of my friends whose families lived too far away to go home more than once or twice during the year.

On this particularly memorable day, Alice was in a fight with her closet, trying to make her inordinately large wardrobe fit in such a tiny space. The radio was playing "This Is No Laughing Matter." I always wondered if this was prophetic or ironic. Anyway, the song abruptly ended and Alice scoffed. I nearly laughed at the annoyed expression on her face. But my amusement died mere seconds later as the radio commentator, Ben Grauer broke the silence.

"_We interrupt this program to bring you a special news bulletin," _the man said._ "From the NBC news room in New York – President Roosevelt said in a statement today that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii from the air. I'll repeat that. President Roosevelt said in a statement today that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii from the air. This bulletin is from the NBC news room at Radio City_." Alice froze, dropping her armful of clothes to the floor. My breath caught in my throat in surprise.

We went home that night to be with my family. I knew I would have to return in the morning for my shift, but I didn't care. I needed to be with them. I also hoped that my father would have more information than the rest of us. I knew he would have had a very long day. Father came home for a short while, but didn't share any more than the radio provided. I think he was as stunned as the rest of us.

The next day I did return in time for my shift. At nearly quarter after twelve, as I was changing the dressings on one of the boys recuperating from surgery, Mrs. Cope, our floor ward, came into the room and turned on the radio. Questioning glances were passed all along the room, as this was highly unusual for her and quite out of character, being the stoic soul that she was.

The room was filled with static and then President Roosevelt began his address to Congress. _"Yesterday, December seventh, 1941 – a date which will live in infamy – the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan,"_ President Roosevelt said gravely.

We listened until the President concluded his speech. Mrs. Cope walked back to the radio and switched it off. The rest of us sat still in shocked silence.

Because I was already a nurse with extensive experience, I knew that I would begin working for the war effort immediately. Whether drafted or volunteering for service, Walter Reed Hospital would be inundated with soldiers needing care after receiving injuries during training exercises. Because of my occupational location, as well as the news my father would share with me over the coming weeks, I was aware of the fact that nurses would be in high demand overseas. Though it pained my parents to acknowledge, we all knew I would be going to war. Our boys would be in harm's way, and I was going with them.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Let me know what you think! ~ Jo**


	3. Dr Edward Cullen

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read my story. I need to give credit to chels926 and her story Battle Hymns. One of her a/n's pointed me in the right direction in my attempt to allow an American nurse and British doctor to work together during the war, ie The Torch Operation. Though our stories are very different, mine woulnd't be as historically accurate without that direction. Thank you Chels, for your support of my use of the The Torch Operation in my story.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

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><p><em>October, 1942<em>

As a fully qualified nurse under the Army Nurse Corps, I was immediately given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant and assigned to the 48th Surgical Hospital. On August 7, 1942 the Nurses of the 48th Surgical Hospital departed the United States aboard the USS "Wakefield" sailing from New York. The ship would end her journey at Greenock, Scotland on August 18. The Hospital disembarked, and then entrained for a one-day ride to southern England. At this point the Hospital unit was made up of 22 Medical Officers, one Chaplain, 60 Nurses, and 250 enlisted personnel.

As a Surgical Hospital, the 48th consisted of a Headquarters and three subordinate elements; two Hospitalization Units with a 200-bed capacity each, that could be established independently at one or more points according to field requirements, and one Mobile Surgical Unit, entirely mobile and self-contained, which would always be with the most forward of the two units. The Mobile Surgical Unit could operate for any of the Hospitalization Units, or for supplementing the surgical facilities of any Army Evacuation Hospital on a temporary basis. It was to the Mobile Surgical Unit that I would find myself assigned over the course of the war. We would spend the next two months training with extensive loading, unloading, packing and unpacking of equipment, setup and simulated operation of the Surgical Hospital. This training was vital for the future efficiency of the organization. On October 20, 1942, we returned to Greenock, Scotland, where we boarded a ship with our destination unknown. Later we would learn that we were headed to Allied North Africa to attend to the Torch Operation. It was here that I would meet Edward.

"Good Morning." Startled by the velvety voice attached to the British accent, I turned swiftly to address the man standing behind me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, good morning to you." I would have shaken his hand, but all five-foot-four of me was laden down by medical supplies that were threatening to swallow me up. While I was petite in stature, I was strong and determined where my duties were concerned.

"I'm Dr. Edward Cullen. You're an American nurse?" He asked, his green eyes twinkling. With a smirk adorning his handsome face, he relieved me of some of the supplies in my arms.

"Yes Sir. I'm Isabella Swan, Bella. I'm with the 48th and have been assigned here for the foreseeable future," I answered shyly, my face feeling the effects of my blush. I tucked an errant mahogany lock behind my ear that had escaped its place in my bun. I must have looked a sight.

"How fortunate for us, Bella," he replied softly. I took in his six-foot-three frame, and his unusual bronze colored hair. Looking into his warm green eyes, I had to agree. It certainly wouldn't be a chore to work with this Adonis. While I wasn't typically boy crazy, nor was I known to fall all over myself around doctors, something about this man intrigued me.

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><p><strong>AN: *sigh* Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think! ~ Jo**


	4. In the Cover of Night

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read my story.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

**Song rec: www . youtube . com / watch?v=ySVohbfqK50&feature=BF&list=PL0CC0388353C96BDA&index=8 (remove the spaces)**

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><p>Dr. Edward Cullen was a 28 year-old surgeon with the British Eighth Army. Because of the joint Allied effort in Tunisia, we would be working together in the Mobile Surgical Unit. Setting up the station, we took the opportunity to get to know each other. Hailing from London, he grew up Oxford, with his family. His father was a doctor as well, and had a practice that Edward would join when his time with the Army concluded. Edward's mother had been a concert pianist in her youth, but spent much of her time these days volunteering. In the days and weeks to come, it wouldn't be unheard of to find us spending time together, when the war allowed. Our relationship seemed to be effortless and natural as it grew from friendship to something more, even in the midst our reality.<p>

The war continued to rage around us. The sound of wailing, crying boys whose limbs were torn off or sawed off, but nevertheless wrenched from once strong, virile bodies surrounded us at every turn. We could not stop for death, rather we fought against it, while seeking out comfort in each other.

Our young men, who were so brave, were brought into a world of death and destruction. We, the nurses, were there to bring them relief, but also to aid the doctors in their attempt to right the wrongs perpetrated to their bodies by our enemies. Death never stopped, yet we needed rest. Unfortunately, our rest meant someone was not saved, was not healed, and was not comforted. They still did not stop coming. Their blood pooled beneath our feet with their screams sounding in a constant hum. There was no time to rest, but rest we must.

Sometimes things would quiet. Deep in the cover of night, whispers could be heard blending with the sounds of sleep and nightmares. It was during these times that Edward, as he asked me to call him from the start, would ask me question after question, about mundane everyday things, to probing questions that were difficult to answer. He was voracious in his pursuit of getting to know me, though, admittedly, no more so than I. What was my childhood like, my favorite toys, things I did with my family, where I grew up? Then later, how I enjoyed college, what my friends were like, my work at Walter Reed. We talked for hours over my favorite books and the music that I loved. He wanted to know my dreams and fears. He wanted to know everything about me.

In return, he told me all about himself. We commiserated over books and music for which we shared a passion. I found out that he was proficient on the piano, and I longed to hear him play. But, what warmed my heart the most was when he also shared his dreams and his fears.

Edward's insight into British Literature, my favorite genre, kept our conversations lively. We could talk about books for hours and never exhaust the subject. Of course, this brought on some rather heated debates, as we each had our favorites. My picks included the works of Austen and Bronte, Wuthering Heights being my favorite. Edward tended to lean toward Robert Louis Stevenson's Jekyll and Hyde, which of course garnered him unending teasing from me. How apt that a surgeon would tote on about a physician turned psychopathic monster. I asked him if there was something he forgot to tell me. Our teasing really knew no bounds.

During one of our more lively discussions, Edward asked, "Do you always like characters that ruin each others' lives, Bella?"

"Certainly not, Edward. What I like is that in the end, not even death could keep them apart," I replied. As we stared into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passed between us. While our time together was sparse, we certainly made the most of it. We were one another's escape from the horror of our reality.

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><p><strong>AN: Let me know what you think! ~ Jo**


	5. Come Away With Me

**A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you like it, too. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

**Song Rec: www . youtube . com / watch?v=iDI2VXYpIUg&feature=BF&list=PL2071B6284FCB268C&index=6 (remove spaces and listen while reading)**

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><p>The staff mostly worked in shifts, but when a bombardment occurred, time seemed to stand still. Soldiers blurred into a continuous stream. Often we would lose time, only realizing later that the days had blended together. The nursing staff did their best to stick to shifts, but during onslaughts such as this it wasn't unheard of for us to work through, only to catch cat naps along the way. There was no help for it as field hospitals were always short staffed.<p>

Unfortunately, this extended to the doctors, as well. The difference was, when a doctor took a break, a patient wasn't being worked on. If they had bullets lodged in their bodies, the bullet stayed until a doctor removed it. If a limb needed removed, it hung on desperately until the saw was wielded. The dreadful result of the doctors' break was the constant pain felt by the soldier in wait, felt also by those doing their best to comfort them.

Seven months after landing in North Africa, the fighting stopped in Tunisia with the last Axis troops surrendering on May 11, 1943. From here, the 48th Surgical Hospital and its British counterparts were re-organized into the 128th Evacuation Hospital and we would spend the next 2 years moving around Europe. We spent time in Sicily, England, France and Belgium, supporting the European Theater of Operations. In June of 1944 we landed in Normandy.

The 128th landed on Utah Beach on June 10, 1944. The bombardment was well underway. The long days blended together, as the broken soldiers flowed through our doors. The sound of explosions rocked through our encampment. Patients were stacked upon each other inside and outside our canvas walls. We had to make time to rest, lest exhaustion make us incapable of helping them. By this sweltering June morning we had been in constant surgery for over four days. I knew it was morning only by the dawn breaking over the horizon. Although we were all exhausted, the doctors were near lost in constant motion. It was always one more patient, one more hour.

It was Dr. Cullen's turn to rest, lest his exhaustion render him useless. He was already teetering on the edge. Working together all these months, everyone in our unit became very close. But to me, Edward was special.

As I approached, I took a good look at him. Dust and sweat covered him from head to toe. His hands were stained red, his shoulders hunched in stiff pain, his eyes had a haunted shadow behind them, beneath were dark purple circles, and his mouth was set in a rigid line. I longed to ease his burdens.

"Dr. Cullen?" I spoke softly to gain his attention, knowing his mind was deep in his work. "Dr. Cullen?"

He raised his eyes slowly to my face. It took several moments for his focus to recognize me. "It's time to take a break," I murmured. "All the other doctors have taken their breaks; it's your turn now."

His response was automatic and monotone, "Soon."

"No, you must take your rest now," I responded, more forcefully.

"I'm nearly done, Bella. I said I'll take it soon."

"And I said now." I would not back down. "If you exhaust yourself any further you'll be of no use to anyone." Softening my voice, I added, "Come away now, Edward. Come away with me."

The tone of my voice and the words I used must have resonated with him. The fog of death slowly lifted its veil from before his eyes and he was able to come back to himself. He nodded slightly and then closed up the gaping wound before him.

I gently guided him to the curtained area we used to clean-up after surgery. I realized that Edward could no longer close his hands into fists, his fingers long stiff from overuse. I lovingly and gently massaged his palms and fingers before scrubbing and rinsing them off. Once I patted them dry, I placed soft kisses on the back of each of his hands as I cradled them in my own. As I looked up into his eyes, I knew he could see the love I held for him in their depths.

He placed his forehead to mine and whispered, "Me, too."

Beyond the curtain the sound of explosions continued to drone on, as the vibrations of mortar shells pulsed beneath our feet. Though the war would rage on for another year, we steadfastly refused to let it penetrate the haven we found in our love for each other.

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><p>AN: I would love to hear your thoughts! ~Jo


	6. Take Care of My Heart

**A/N: The process of writing, and reading as well, is incredibly emotional for me. **This is the scene following the prologue and its aftermath. Deep breath...****

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

**Song rec (remove spaces and listen while reading): www . youtube . com / watch?v=mikudzy6Ddo&feature=BF&list=PL2071B6284FCB268C&index=2**

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><p>After our time in France concluded, we were sent to Belgium. When our time there came to an end in March of 1945, the 128th was once again re-organized. Edward was heading into Germany, but I was headed home. My time of service was completed too quickly for my liking. Not that I wanted to stay in the hell I had found myself in, but I didn't want my time with Edward to come to an end.<p>

My unit was sailing back to England where we would spend several days before our ship would depart for New York. Edward was able to take a short leave and traveled with us to England where we would part. We spent three splendid days wrapped together in a small inn nearby. It was a Tuesday morning in early September, when Edward accompanied me to the yard where my unit would meet back up after our leave. I could barely speak, as my heartbreak was so close to the surface.

Edward embraced me, our foreheads together as we stared into each other's eyes. "We'll be together again, soon. Isabella, we belong together," he said, squeezing me softly.

"Please be safe. I love you," I whispered.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice low and full of emotion. "Out loud."

I swallowed once, needing my voice to be clear and strong as I did so. "I love you, Edward." Tears fell down my cheeks to be rubbed away by his thumbs when I repeated, "I love you, so much."

"With all of my breath, and life, and soul," Edward responded.

I stood at the deck railing as the ship left port, until Edward was no longer visible to my eyes. Placing my hands in my coat pocket, I felt the smooth surface of paper. Pulling it out, I unfolded it to read Edward's elegant script...

_"__Take care of my heart. I've left it with you__." – E_

I returned to the United States humbled, weary and worn, but most effectually, broken-hearted. I missed Edward and worried for him endlessly. I didn't know if I would ever see him again. He promised to write, but I knew that his opportunities to post letters would be few and far between. I tried to stay busy, so that I wouldn't obsess over our separation and his safety. Sometimes I wondered if it would be better to let go and move on, for both our sakes. Once his commission was over he would go back to Oxford to join his fathers' practice and find a nice English lass to bring him tea, whom he could rest his weary burdens upon. I would… Well, I didn't know what I would do. My heart was certainly no longer my own. Edward had it. But, more than anything else, I just wanted him to be safe and happy. Yes, perhaps the best thing would be to let him go, rather than pine away for what cannot be. There didn't seem to be much hope for us. We were separated by an ocean. _An ocean._ Not to mention, a bloody war.

As the weeks turned into months following my arrival to the states, I settled in quick order my return to Walter Reed Hospital. I worked with the soldiers housed there for their recuperation after being injured in the war. I lived with my parents, as I had given up my apartment when I joined the Corps. Many men who could no longer serve due to their injuries were back from overseas, struggling to heal in body, as well as mind. I kept busy with my work, so as not to dwell on the ache that was so prevalent in my chest. I forced myself not to look in the afternoon post, not to think of him constantly. Not that I was successful in either attempt, but the intent was there. Hope was no longer a balm, but agony to my soul.

The war officially came to an end in May of 1945, and I had yet to hear from Edward.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope I did them justice. Let me know your thoughts! ~ Jo**


	7. I Still Have You

**A/N: Well, this is the end. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you again for taking the time to read my first story. My tissue is ready and my song inspiration is below for you to listen to while reading this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I spend many hours dreaming about her characters. It's a fair compromise.**

**Song rec (remove spaces and listen while reading): www . youtube . com / watch?v=3hWAwHz44ts&feature=BF&list=PL2071B6284FCB268C&index=1**

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><p><em>September, 1945<em>

It was September and quite mild for the evening when Bella returned home from another long shift at the hospital. As she climbed the porch steps, Bella's eyes landed on what appeared to be a package of letters tied together with string, all of which were bearing her name. She paused, willing herself not to hope. Sitting down upon the top step, her fingers pulled out the letter on the top of the pile. Bella's heart caught in her throat as she began to read…

_My Dearest Bella ~ You left a moment, a day, a week, a lifetime ago. Every hour that passes without your presence stretches unbearably before me…._

Bella continued to read each letter, learning that Edward had written to her constantly while they had been apart. The letters were filled with his dreams for their future, his hopes for their life together. When Bella came to the final letter she paused, not wanted her time with Edward to end, even if it was only through his written words. With a deep breath she wiped the tears from her face and continued...

_My Darling ~ I cannot go another moment without you. Say you'll spend your life with me. Say you're ready to begin our life, together. Say it, out loud… - Edward_

Bella's eyes blurred with her tears, as the hope she fought so hard to silence sprung up anew in her heart. As her eyes rose to the night sky, she spoke the words to any celestial being who would listen, "I love you."

A familiar soft velvet voice replied, "With all my breath, and life, and soul."

Bella's eyes jerked from the heavens to find Edward standing at the bottom of the porch steps, his twinkling green eyes full of love. She couldn't speak. Her sobs were caught in her throat. She wanted to say so many things to him, but before Bella had the chance to speak his lips crushed upon hers. Her head spun delightfully as she lost herself in the embrace, in the emotion, in him. Edward pulled his mouth away to feather kisses over her tear-streaked face, his arms banding around her as he held her tight. His palm rested on the back of her head, cradling her to his chest and she felt the rumble of joyous laughter start there before she heard it.

Edward pulled Bella away, the grin on his face more beautiful than any sight she'd ever seen as he declared, "We're going to have a wonderful life together. You're everything to me. You're my forever."

"You still have hope," she stated, with a bright smile adorning her face.

His heart bursting full, he fervently whispered, "I still have you."

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><p><strong>AN: So, there it is. My first story. I'd really appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thank you so much for reading If I Could See You Again. ~ Jo**


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